Re part 2 - Retribution
by BlackFrostWarrior
Summary: Robin, Captain Marvel and Blue Beetle go undercover as prison inmates to try and discover both the cause and cure for the "monster" epidemic sweeping the world. Meanwhile, Nightwing is thrust into a nightmare world where he confronts a dark part of himself. No slash or pairing.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Note that although each part of Re is written with the intent that it be understandable without having read the other parts, it is still advisable that you read previous parts of the story to more fully understand and enjoy the story which follows.  
**

**The author would like to say that if you don't like a character's behavior or how a scene played out, just do what the author does when they watch an episode of a TV show and don't like how it went: pretend it was a hallucination, a dream sequence or some sort of mind control which was later resolved in an untold part of the story.  
**

**Or you could complain in the reviews. The author would then add your complaint to the existing file on their computer which is entirely devoted to the many, and obvious, flaws in this story.**

_Arrow County Correctional Facility_

_September 25__th__, 08:13 AM_

The eruption of the violence was sudden, but not without its warning. Everyone had expected it, had seen it coming, had known that this conclusion was inevitable. What had been brief flashes of subtle fury exploded into a torrential and uncontainable fire storm of flaming rage.

The illusion of control, so carefully maintained for so very long, was torn away by rough hands and shredded by screaming voices, each clamoring for their own kind of attention.

Later, there would be those who said it began with a shout, others claimed it was a whisper, or perhaps a planned rebellion which got out of hand. A silent dissent flowing among the inmates like a telepathic message, turning to blind and mindless vengeance wrought not only upon the guilty, but on the innocent as well, if there was such a thing.

The only thing anyone knew for sure was that, once the violence began, there was only one way for it to play out. Correctional officers who could sought refuge on the other side of the barred doors. But there were others who were not so lucky, they were caught by the surging upheaval of the inmates, dragged into their midst and ripped to pieces by bare hands eager for the kill.

But they were not the only bodies to hit the floor. Hatreds which had been restrained suddenly broke free when, as one, the inmates turned upon each other in wild savagery, clawing at one another as though they were animals, inarticulate cries of rage wringing out of them in almost painful gasps.

It was only a few moments later that the officers who had escaped returned in full riot gear. Their own anger and frustration in the situation they vented on the bloody heathens before them. It was not in their denial of God, but in their refusal to realize that it was in their best interest to stop going the way they were, and had been since before they ever came here.

The prisoners were not yet adults, but were instead youths, juveniles who had far exceeded the term "delinquent". Some had even gone right past "criminal" and into some other, as yet unnamed, category too terrible to even be accurately described.

Roars of pain and screams of protest began to replace those of unbridled fury and mad triumph. The riot, shattered by smoke and rubber bullets, broke apart almost as quickly as it had built up.

As the coughing, crying and spluttering juveniles scattered and fell to harsh blows, they parted to reveal the heart of the blazing fury.

Kneeling beside the fallen body of a correctional officer, blood on his hands and shirt, eyes staring widely at the chaos about him, was Tim.


	2. Chapter 1 - Sounds Like a Plan

_Watchtower_

_Two Weeks Earlier..._

"I don't like this," Batgirl growled aside to Nightwing "it's too soon,"

Nightwing tilted his head, acknowledging her concern, but apparently not agreeing with it, though he said nothing and his expression gave no reflection of his thoughts.

"The Arrow County Correctional Facility," Superman gestured to the hologram "is owned by Lex Luthor, member of The Light, who is known to be involved in the disappearances of many people world wide, now known to be reappearing in monstrous forms. This facility may be a testing ground. No one has been released from the facility in over a year, and many parents have complained that they are not permitted to visit their children often enough, some not at all,"

"The facility's inmates are all under the age of eighteen, and all are boys," Batman took up the briefing "officially, the Justice League cannot intervene, as nothing illegal appears to be going on. Additionally, an open offensive might trigger an evacuation by the Light, ending in the deaths of every inmate within the facility. A covert team to investigate would seem the only recourse,"

"However," Superman resumed "I'm sure you are all aware of how few of our number fit the specification of the facility. Even those that do would need to have their physical appearance altered in order to protect their identity,"

"Which is where I come in," Zatanna said "a mystic amulet should suffice, as it has in the past,"

Several members of the team flinched at the mention of Kaldur and Artemis' time undercover as subordinates of Black Manta.

"Wouldn't they remove it as a precaution?," it was Nightwing who asked, subtly reminding them that, in the end, Artemis' amulet had exposed her.

"Not if the suggestion that it is harmless is laced into the spell," Zatanna said "for that I will require the assistance of Miss Martian, who has already agreed,"

"Now for the part I really don't like," Batgirl whispered.

Again Nightwing inclined his head enough to show he had heard, and again he made no comment.

"The team will consist of Robin, Blue Beetle and Captain Marvel, who will assume the names of Timothy Dragon, Jaime Reeve and Billy Barstow," Superman went on.

"Excuse me," Superboy said "but shouldn't I be on the team?,"

"Negative," Batman said "blood will be drawn at random to test for drugs,"

"What about Marvel?," Superboy asked.

"In his alternate form, his blood will register as human," Black Canary supplied.

"What about Robin?," Batgirl chimed in "he was recently injured,"

"He has returned to the field," Batman told her, his voice cold.

The implication that he was unfit was an insult to Robin, and frankly offensive to any hero. Though Robin would not speak up for himself in the matter, seeing as Batgirl was senior to him and that he tended to avoid conflict in his own team, Batman was quick to point out that Batgirl was out of line.

"And a recent injury will help with the cover," Nightwing put in, siding with Batman in his usual cool, subtle and indifferent on the surface manner.

"So what are we in for?," Robin asked, turning conversation back to something relevant.

"Members of the same gang, or rival gangs, are generally separated," Batman said "so you will pretend to never have met one another before. Robin, you are the fictional leader of the very real Black Devils gang,"

"Who operate in Gotham," Robin nodded thoughtfully "I know about them,"

"Which is exactly why it's a good cover," Batman explained "Blue Beetle, you're a drug dealer from El Paso. Captain Marvel...," Batman paused, clearly thinking that any criminal act would seem laughable when applied to Billy Batson, except maybe one "you murdered your parents and failed to convince a jury that you were insane,"

Captain Marvel looked momentarily confused, then a light dawned and he looked a bit offended. But it was clear from his expression that he knew just why it must be this way. He could never convincingly play a hardened criminal, unless he was also nuts.

"So who's headin' up this op?," Superboy asked, still inwardly sulking about being left out.

"Captain Marvel has the seniority," Batman said.

"However, given their cover stories, it would be easier if Robin were named team leader," Superman put in.

It was true. It made more sense for a former gang leader to call the shots than for a nutjob with a taste for murder. Though they would endeavor not to be overheard or even noticed together much, it was inevitable that someone would see them at least from a distance. And, where they were going, body language was everything. If Robin was seen obeying orders from Captain Marvel, nobody would be likely to believe he was the leader of any gang, much less the Black Devils of Gotham.

"I'm cool letting Robin take charge," Captain Marvel said, shrugging indifferently.

Robin looked uncertain for a moment, then seemed to gather himself. He had been told in advance that he would be going on the mission, though he had been unaware of the details until now. Being leader of the team was bad enough, but to have a member of the Justice League answering to him... he decided not to think about that. It was the only thing that made sense given the perimeters of the mission. He decided to move the briefing along.

"What are we supposed to do once we're inside?," he asked.

"Find out what you can," Batman said simply "and report back,"

"How?,"

"You will all get regular visits from your 'relatives'. Depending on what you find, the mission may change," Superman warned "we're playing this by ear,"

"And going in blind," Blue Beetle commented quietly.

"No different from the usual," Robin pointed out.

"That's what I'm afraid of,"

* * *

_Arrow County Correctional Facility (ACCF)_

_September 15__th__, 11:00 AM_

Their cover was necessarily thorough. Tim was "captured" by Batman, but Billy and Jaime were caught and arrested by local authorities (who had connections to certain members of the Justice League). They were among six others who were delivered to the facility that day, Tim having been arrested less than a day earlier, but Billy having had a rather rushed and hushed "trial" beforehand.

They were placed under the authority of Max Warden, a big surly-looking fellow whose black hair was thinning and silvered, betraying his age and probable experience on the job as well.

It had not specifically been the plan for the three of them to be locked in the same cell room, but it was so much the better as far as Tim was concerned. The downside was that there were ten people to a room, though as an upside there were three rooms to an officer.

Thirty juveniles with one officer in charge of them. Good odds for staying unnoticed.

Their appearances hadn't been greatly altered, just enough that a comparison of their photos would be distinctly different. Also, the tattoo mark of the Black Devils had been put on Tim's right shoulder. It was this that gave him introduction to the "society" within the walls.

"You a Black Devil?," asked one of their cell mates, nodding toward the exposed tattoo.

Tim let his feelings for the gang light a fire of masked fury in his eyes and he didn't respond for a moment, measuring the questioner like he would a suit. A little bigger than he was, but all mouth and very little muscle. Arrogant but, by this place's standards, quite harmless.

"Yeah, so what?," he let his speech slur, doing his best to sound self-important.

"S'coo'," the older boy said quickly "I heard of 'em, 's'all. Sweet gang,"

"That's because of me," Tim told him "I made 'em,"

"Really?. Coo', man, coo',"

"Don't forget it, either, boy," Tim retorted "I eat bigger fish than you for breakfast,"

This he said with confidence, for it was perfectly true. Almost any of the villains he had faced in the past were tougher than this kid. Probably smarter too, but definitely more dangerous. One of the things about being the "offspring" of Batman, you gained a certain sixth sense when it came to danger. Maybe it was a superhero thing too, but it was definitely a Batman thing.

"Aight, I don' wan' no trouble wit' choo. Jus' wanna do mah time, get out and get back to mah crime,"

"So you can wind up here again?," Tim challenged "that's stupid,"

"Hey!. I said I don' wan' trouble!. Didn' say I'd put up with insults, man. You in here too. You sayin' you plan to go straight after?. You, leader of the Black Devils?,"

"No," Tim knew to say otherwise would blow his cover for sure "but, if not for the Bat, I wouldn't have gotten caught in the first place. I'm betting you weren't caught by any caped crusader,"

"Man, that sucks," came the reply "Justice League makes me sick. Always nosin' in. Makes it so's you can't hardly be a respectable criminal anymo',"

"You wouldn't know respectable if it came and bit you," Tim told him.

"Hey, what's your deal?. You been raggin' on me this whole time,"

"Maybe I'm not impressed by you,"

"You?... Wha... I... you don' even know me, man!,"

"Yeah?. So who are you?,"

"I am Mitchell Miguellio," he said proudly "the infamous and bold car thief,"

"Car thief?. That's cute. You steal lady's purses too?,"

"You wanna go a round!?. Come on, get up!," Miguellio leaped to his feet, raising his fists.

Tim didn't bat an eye. This was exactly what he'd wanted. He had to come on arrogant, aggressive, but nobody's fool. He looked above and past Miguellio pointedly. Looking over his shoulder, Miguellio lowered his fists and sat back down. There were no officers present, but a camera hung from the ceiling in plain sight to make sure everybody played nice.

Tim resisted the impulse to say "always be aware of your surroundings". It would be a bad idea to start giving instruction to the potential enemy, especially considering that he was in a room full of equally or even more likely adversaries.

"So you're observant," Miguellio sulked "maybe I was testin' you. So what's yo name?,"

"You can called me Dragon," Tim was no fool.

Here in prison, a name like Timothy would make him a laughingstock before he got a foothold.

"S'coo'," Miguellio commented mildly "bit cartoonish,"

"Watch a lot of cartoons do you?,"

"Hey, don' start again," Miguellio warned "I may just forget that camera,"

"I, on the other hand," Tim spoke nonchalantly, but there was a dangerous look in his eyes that served warning to all "never will,"

His eyes said it all: stay in the light, or I may come for you and you will not survive the encounter.

* * *

_01:00 PM_

"That guy over there keeps looking at me funny," Billy whispered to Tim at the lunch table.

Billy had taken his place first, and Tim had come later. Jaime was much further down the table, but within earshot if they spoke up a little. It had been decided that they wouldn't behave too chummy, at least not early on. They would sort of "accidentally" wind up near one another sometimes. Easy to do when you lived in the same room.

Tim glanced over his shoulder at the teenager Billy was looking at. A big brute of a boy, pale with a nervous right eye and a hard, confident look that came from making a career of being scum. Strong, sturdy, probably smart enough to stay ahead of the game anyway. Though clearly not far enough ahead, seeing as he'd wound up here, probably with no help from any superheroes. Unease tightened in Tim's gut like a vise, as his mind registered the imminent danger to his team mate.

"I can take him," Billy said, as though reading Tim's thoughts.

"Yes, but not now," Tim replied evenly "wait for him to be more obvious. Then convince him that you're totally unhinged and very touchy about being looked at. Better yet... pick a fight with me. But later. Let the information that I'm the Black Devils' leader spread around,"

"What good will that do?," Billy asked.

"I want them to realize how dangerous I am, before you hang me out to dry,"

"But you're supposed to be the leader. If I beat you up-,"

"Exactly the point," Tim replied evenly "you defeat me, but I feed you instructions. You look more dangerous, and I look more devious, thus strengthening both our positions,"

"But to what end?," Billy wanted to know.

"Survival," Tim told him "we may be here awhile, and we don't need half the gangs in the facility breathing down our necks, in addition to the security guards,"

"Point taken," Billy said agreeably.

"You'll have to make it look good, and so will I. That means drawing blood,"

"But-,"

"They won't buy it if both of us comes away without a scratch. Can you give some good bruises without breaking anything important?,"

"I can try," Billy said uncertainly "but I do most of my fighting as Cap... the other guy,"

"So do I," Tim said "we'll just have to do the best we can,"

"Okay,"

"Now, it'll have to be fast, in a room where we're only distantly supervised,"

"Showers?,"

"Exactly. Jaime covers the camera, we spend thirty seconds knocking each other around, I come away with marks, you don't really. I'll wind up in solitary for my own protection for a couple of days,"

"But you're team leader,"

"I know, I know," Tim said "but it's the only thing that makes sense. It won't be for long. You and Jaime will be fine on your own until then,"

Tim didn't try to explain the kind of danger Billy was in. Without his powers, Billy was vulnerable. And his weakness was something the inmates could smell on him like fear. He needed to prove himself, and fast, or they would have bigger problems than mere guards to worry about.

"So what do I tell my relatives?," Billy asked.

"You'll tell them what they want to hear," Tim replied "I don't think we've found anything yet, but I did stick a device on the back of the computer in that office we were in earlier. If you and Jaime can get it back without being noticed, then pass it on...,"

"Okay, sounds like a plan,"

"Yeah...," Tim's voice wavered at last, and he hesitated "it does, doesn't it?,"

* * *

**A/N: The author would like to point out that the logic behind Robin being named team leader doesn't make any real kind of sense, but it's a plot device. Also, the author is aware that they failed to mention a number of team members who fit into the description required to be part of this particular operation. Just pretend that they were all busy on missions of their own (or that the author had completely forgotten about them at the time of this writing and so failed to explain away their absence).**

**Also, please don't try to identify Migeullio's intended accent. The author had none in particular in mind for him and, though his name may indicate that he is of Hispanic origin, such was not the intent.**

**The author would also like to add that the Black Devils are entirely fictitious, which would be why you've never heard of them.**


	3. Chapter 2 - Conspiracy

_ACCF_

_September 15__th__, 05:30 PM_

The moment came. Tim indicated the nearby camera with a tilt of his head. Jaime changed directions and tossed his shirt over the lens. His scarab was hidden from others by the amulet around his neck. Immediately, Billy took a swing at Tim, who neatly ducked the blow.

They had both sparred in practice for hours, but never with each other. Tim struck Billy a glancing blow on the shoulder, which he played up by reeling, recovering and launching an attack of his own. A general cry of "Fight!. Fight!" rose from the other boys, though a few stood shy near the walls.

"Speed it up, Billy," Tim whispered as they closed.

"But I might hurt you for real if I'm not careful," Billy protested as they rolled across the floor.

"Just do it!," Tim broke from Billy, landing a soft kick in the other's midriff.

The slick surface of water carried Tim across to the other side of the shower, where he bounced off the wall and feigned being stunned for a second or two. Rising, he barely missed a kick aimed for his head, and was hit by a punch at his neck. He let himself hit the floor again, rolled and knocked Billy to the ground. Both came up swinging, but Billy caught Tim with a blow to the throat that, had it been real, would have choked him. He made a gagging sound and went down, and Billy followed through with a number of false blows to his stomach, which made a lot of noise but did no damage.

Knowing that it was likely a doctor would check him over, Tim shifted into the last kick, so that the impact was real. He felt it too and exhaled sharply as he rolled limply across the floor. Billy, horrified but trying to maintain cover, picked him up by the collar, but by now the others had crowded too close for them to exchange words.

In the background, Jaime made a throat cutting gesture, indicating that officers were nearly here. Their time was up. Tim mouthed the word "finish". Billy, lifting him higher, pulled back for a punch, which connected with far too little force to be convincing as a knockout blow. Tim pretended the force of it threw him to the wall, and intentionally hit his head against one of the shower heads hard enough for an explosion of stars to flair in front of his eyes. He sank to the floor.

Billy melted into the crowd as Warden ran in, and found himself next to Jaime.

"You did what you had to," Jaime told him quietly "and so did he,"

"Sometimes I hate this job," Billy replied.

"Who did this to you?," demanded Warden, grabbing Tim by the shoulders.

Tim, pretending to be more dazed than he was, let his eyes roll and made no attempt to answer. He was sure he was bleeding, but didn't know how bad. Soaked to the skin with water, which was still spraying from a number of showers, he felt more cold than battered.

"Who did this to him!?," Warden demanded of the other boys "nobody saw anything?," barely controlled rage seemed to surge through him.

Everyone had seen, but nobody would talk. If there was one thing they hated more than each other, it was the officers who ordered them around.

"Come on, get up," Warden pulled Tim to his feet and led him from the room.

* * *

A few minutes later, Tim was sitting in front of a desk, facing some figure of authority whose title he couldn't entirely seem to recall. There had indeed been blood running down his face between his eyes, but it had been stifled by a first aid bandage and he'd been changed into dry clothes. He had shown signs of recovery swiftly enough that no ambulance was called if, indeed, that had ever been a threat.

"It's in your best interest to reveal who did this," the authority was saying "the only other option is to put you in solitary for your own good,"

Tim gazed steadily past the figurehead. He knew that the true Black Devils leader would make snide remarks and insult these people without a second or first thought. The arrogant twit thought he was master of the universe because some punk kids were willing to follow him anywhere. That made him incredibly dangerous, but not especially intelligent.

Tim, on the other hand, wanted as little trouble as he could get. The less trouble he made for himself, the easier his job would be. And easy was exactly what he wanted.

After a few more tactics failed, the authority told Warden to put him in solitary. And to solitary he went, where he would remain for the next three days.

* * *

_10:00 PM_

"I don't like this, it doesn't feel right," Billy whispered to Jaime.

They had been assigned to the same bunk, with Jaime below Billy. The nearby snoring of their cell mates covered their quiet conversation.

"Tim did his job so we could do ours," Jaime replied quietly "he's fine, and he'll be back soon enough. Now, what's our next move?,"

"Tim said he hid a device behind the office computer," Billy explained "now we have to get it back before visiting hours tomorrow. Any ideas?,"

"Not if it don't include throwin' you to the wolves," Jaime said after a moment's thought.

"What do you mean?,"

"I could tell them I saw the fight, and know who did it. That would get me into the office for sure. But I don't like the idea of trading one team mate for another,"

"Likely as not, Tim and I would both be stuck in solitary," Billy said by way of agreement "me for hitting him, him for not talking after,"

"Yeah, they seemed pretty peeved about that," Jaime nodded "on the other hand...,"

He trailed off, his eyes traveling the room to find a bunk against the wall, shrouded in darkness. Yes, that would do fine, he thought. Just... fine.

"We need to agree that you weren't the one who attacked Tim,"

"What?,"

"That kid over there, he did it,"

"But he didn't do anything," Billy protested.

"Wanna bet?. That guy would have crushed you like an egg if you and Tim hadn't thrown down. Nobody likes him, but everybody's afraid. He's the leader of the pack in here, amigo. Get rid of him, we get into the office and cut off the cobra's head, makin' room for a hostile takeover,"

"Oh, I don't like that idea, Jaime," Billy told him.

"You got a better one?,"

"No,"

"Thus making my point. It's the only thing that makes sense,"

"I've heard that before," Billy replied softly.

"And you'll live to hear it again. Now come on, let's get some sleep,"

* * *

_ACCF_

_September 16__th__, 07:30 AM_

They were on their feet, beds made, standing at a childish sort of attention. They filed stiffly out of the room, but Jaime hung back. Several boys noticed him whisper something to Warden, and they exchanged looks. Several glances were cast towards Billy, who for his part acted as if nothing had happened and as though he had not a care in the world. The glances became uneasy as Billy was called over, and came without apparent concern.

"So you're both willing to talk," the man of authority said.

"Hey, I happen to like the Black Devils," Jaime said "they're like... my role models,"

Warden and the authority looked at one another, but both managed not to comment.

"I for one don't like injustice," Billy told them honestly.

"I see," Authority said "so who's responsible for this?,"

"I don't know his name, man," Jaime replied "but I can point 'im out,"

The boys were split up, Jaime taken to the security room to look at the cameras, then Billy. By the time they had returned to their rooms, Jaime had the device tucked into his shirt and they had unanimously implicated the boy who'd been staring at Billy the day before: Roland Trace.

As a way of making sure, Warden brought Tim up to look at the cameras as well, knowing he'd had no contact with Billy or Jaime. This was where the plan might have fallen apart. But when Tim heard that "two boys" had come forward, he knew almost certainly which two it had to have been. Knowing there was only one logical scape goat, he picked Roland Trace, sealing the boy's fate.

"I think you'd best remain in solitary," Authority said, pausing as a protest died in Warden's throat "just to be sure you learn that it's better to tell the truth than withhold information,"

"Yeah. Whatever," Tim shook his head.

Warden looked at the angry young man he was responsible for. He could see that this would only make Tim resent him more than ever, if that was at all possible. The cut on his forehead between his eyes made Tim look slightly crazed, and more than a little violently inclined.

* * *

_12:03 PM_

"Hi, Uncle Bat," Billy called brightly, taking a seat at the table across from Batman, who was in civilian clothes, faintly disguised as the boys were to conceal his true identity.

They shook hands, and Batman felt the computer device against his palm. Hacking into the outside computers, he had discovered that Tim Dragon was confined to solitary, which meant he would have to meet with Billy instead.

"How are the other kids treating you?," he asked casually.

"A few bad apples in every bunch," Billy replied indifferently "it's taken care of,"

Everything was going according to plan, whatever plan that might be. Batman would have been surprised if it were otherwise, considering the field experience of the current team.

"Keeping your nose clean?,"

"Getting into a few scrapes,"

Nothing useful yet. They might be here for awhile.

"I can handle it," Billy went on.

Tim was going to be out of the picture for a little while, uncertain how long.

"You'd better," Batman replied gruffly "or I'll handle it for you,"

No unnecessary risks. This is a fact finding mission, nothing more.

"I can deal with my own problems, you know that,"

"I know that, but do they?," he nodded towards the other occupants of the room meaningfully.

"They will," Billy said after a moment "soon enough,"

* * *

_Watchtower_

_02:02 PM_

Batman was reporting all he'd learned from his talk with Billy. Nightwing had taken charge of the device, decrypting it and scanning for useful information. He'd be more thorough the second or third time through. He listened to Batman with only half an ear, while several members of the team as well as the League listened with rapt attention.

The device seemed to have the usual information they found on these computers. Random notations and meaningless calculations, a series of words and numbers that said little and meant less. Most of this Nightwing would have to pass on to the more science-oriented members of the League. He could play at chemistry, but he wasn't a genius. But, so far, these things had done nothing to clear the mystery up for the resident geniuses either. People turned to monsters, and the League had no idea how or why, or how to turn them back to what they once were. It was maddening and was made that much worse by members of the team and the League having to put their lives on the line for even this much.

Disgusted, more with himself than anything, Nightwing stood up, shaking his head at the questioning looks which turned his way. There was a member of the League on the mission, but it was team directed. Nightwing was responsible for the operation, though he was receiving cooperation from the League. It had been his idea. Him and his ideas. Damn.

* * *

_ACCF_

In the dark, a door slowly creaked open and admitted six people in white lab coats. The room's occupant tried to speak to them, but he was pinned to the cot. As he writhed, trying to escape, a silver needle was raised to the thread of light seeping through the door. His eyes widened. He bit the hand that held his mouth and it withdrew long enough for him to utter a frightened scream, which turned to a strangled cry, then was finally silenced.

The people left as they'd come, unspeaking and without expression. They shut the door without once looking back at what they'd done, and marched past rows of similar rooms, knowing that behind each closed door, there cowered a frightened boy who, up until that moment, thought himself very tough, and very troubled. Now they knew how much trouble they were in.

A heartbeat. Two. Three. Four.

And the nightmare had arrived.

* * *

_Watchtower_

To the intense shock and alarm of all present, Nightwing gave a sudden, startled yelp of pain and fell to his knees. Eyes half-closed, he seemed both blind and deaf to those around him. Kaldur kept him from falling entirely to the floor. Kneeling beside them, Black Canary ran an experienced hand over the stricken Nightwing. Blood dripped from his face onto her arm.

A moment later, it seemed that it was over. With a gasp reminiscent of a drowning man breaking to the surface, Nightwing opened his eyes and stared widely at the floor for a number of seconds.

"Nightwing?. Can you hear me?," Black Canary asked.

"I hear," he said between breaths.

"Do you know what happened to you?,"

"I...the team is in danger," he said suddenly, struggling to get to his feet.

For a moment, Kaldur moved as though to stop him, but instead helped his leader get upright. Once on his feet, Nightwing cast about wildly until he locked eyes with Batman.

"We have to get them out," he told his former master "we have to get them out now,"

* * *

**A/N: The author asks that you bear with them for a few chapters and promises that this is not a repeat of part 1 only in reverse.**


	4. Chapter 3 - Crazy

_Watchtower_

_September 16__th__, 3:30 PM_

"Physically, he seems normal," Black Canary said, sounding a bit miffed.

"I'm fine," Nightwing assured her calmly.

"You said earlier that the team was in danger. What did you mean by that?," Batman asked.

Nightwing, sitting on a bed and having reluctantly submitted to tests administered by Black Canary, looked irritably over at Batman.

"Exactly what I said," Nightwing replied brusquely.

At Batman's look, the others departed, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

"Don't look at me like that," Nightwing snapped "I saw... I don't know for sure what I saw. But I'm not delusional. If we leave them in there... they'll die,"

"Dick, it's been awhile since you led a team. Longer since it was a mission as serious as this," Batman began as gently as he could manage.

"No!," Nightwing sprang defensively to his feet, glaring at his mentor "I'm not panicking!. I'm not having nightmares. Whatever I saw... it's real. I don't know how I know that, but I do. You have to believe me,"

"I think you'd better sit the rest of this one out. Kaldur can take charge of the team. Take a few days to think things over," Batman ordered.

Nightwing opened his mouth to protest further, but Batman was already turned and heading for the door. There was nothing more he could say. Nothing he could do to change Batman's mind. Nightwing could hardly blame him. He knew he sounded crazy. Maybe he was crazy.

He sat back down on the bed, sighing wearily. He hadn't slept since this mission began, barely slept before that, knowing it was coming, dreading it with every fiber of his being. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't want to be back here, in this place, doing this job. He was scared, that must be what it was.

Vivid hallucinations brought on by stress. That's all.

Yeah right, and Martians were fond of fire.

* * *

_ACCF_

_September 17__th__, 11:00 AM_

"When I became a superhero, nobody told me manual labor was in the job description," Jaime mumbled to Billy, who didn't seem to be listening to him for the moment.

They'd been set to digging trenches, though they weren't sure what for, not that they cared. Shovels and heavy machinery, hard work and sweat marked the passage of time. Maybe the idea was to wear them out so that they wouldn't have so much energy to devote to beating up on each other.

Billy had noticed the deference with which he'd been treated by the other inmates. The officers might believe Roland had done it, but all the inmates knew it had been Billy who took down the Black Devils leader in a fair fight. They feared him.

"I didn't expect to be looked at like I was a monster," Billy said quietly.

Jaime either didn't notice or ignored him. They were both wrapped up in their own thoughts, not the least of which was wondering what their next move was. There didn't seem to be anything here. Nobody suspicious, no strange activity. Just the guards and the inmates, and the waiting.

* * *

_Gotham City_

_September 18__th__, 12:00 AM_

Nightwing had been smoothing out his frayed nerves by taking down small time thugs, many of whom he had caught before and would no doubt catch again. But the image that had blazed across his mind in a searing fire of pain stayed with him, indistinct yet definite, a symbol of something that had either already happened, or was yet to come.

"I have no superpowers," he informed the nearby wall as he retreated to a safe distance from the crime he'd just stopped so as to avoid the police "I am not psychic and cannot see the future,"

Climbing up to a rooftop, he sat down near the edge with his knees drawn up so he could rest his arms on them, gazing thoughtfully into the darkness.

"Okay, so I believe that's true," he went on "that doesn't mean something else isn't going on. Or, on the other hand, maybe I'm just crazy. What do I know about crazy?,"

"If you're asking me, I'd say you know quite a bit about it," Nightwing, hardly surprised, looked over his shoulder at Batgirl, who stood with one hand on her hip and a teasing smile on her face.

"Oh thanks," Nightwing sighed, putting his chin on his arm.

"Come on. Think objectively. You sound like you've flipped your lid," Batgirl said, sitting down next to him, hanging her feet over the side of the building.

"I know, I know. I sound like I'm crazy to you. I sound like I'm crazy to me," Nightwing shook his head "but I can't shake it. I know... I don't even know for sure what I know. Just that there's something... bad in that place. We don't want to be anywhere near it when it goes,"

"Sounds like a typical mission to me," Batgirl told him "you sure you're not just afraid of losing another member of your team?,"

"I am. I'm afraid. Happy now?. I'm afraid, paranoid and too protective," Nightwing got up and began to pace "But you know what?. I'm not. I'm not protective at all,"

"Dick, that was years ago,"

"But it's still me," Nightwing snapped "I'd give up all of you, and me too, if I thought it would do a damn bit of good for this world. You know it as well as I do. I'm not some oversensitive 'let's sit down and talk about it' League wannabe. No, I'm not afraid of getting the job done. It bothers me that I'd sacrifice everyone I care about, but I can't change that. That's not what this is about,"

"So what is it about then?," Batgirl asked.

Nightwing paced a few more laps around the rooftop, came to a halt, frowning at the moon as if it were at fault for all that was wrong in the world.

"I don't know. So help me, I wish I did,"

* * *

_ACCF_

_07:30 AM_

Tim woke up feeling sick to his stomach, but he wasn't about to show it to Warden. He stood up straight and stared past the officer as if he wasn't even there.

"Hey, don't blame me for this," Warden said "if it were up to me, you would have gotten out of here the moment that creep got caught, alright?,"

"Sure," Tim let his gaze pass across the worn face of Warden in a brief, dispassionate examination "so, you gonna let me out now?,"

"Yes, you can rejoin the others," Warden said "but I want you to know, I'm not the enemy,"

"And yet you know what happens in the hallways," Tim's eyes locked with Warden's "you know the pain inflicted on others, yet you allow it to continue, just so long as it's not on your watch. These kids are yours, you are responsible for them and became that way the moment you took this job,"

"Don't you think I know that?," Warden asked.

"You sure act as if it's news to you," Tim replied "you flinched just now, like what I said hurt, but also came as something of a shock,"

"Come on, don't give me any trouble. Let's go,"

"Don't touch me," Tim snatched himself out of Warden's reach, then walked down the hall, glad to leave this place behind and hoping not to see it again.

* * *

_08:00 AM_

"Timothy!," Billy appeared from nowhere, putting an arm around Tim's neck.

Tim felt a twinge of irritation at the use of his full name, then realized it was for the best. It was in character for Billy to call him that. But he let his other rage shine through as he jerked away from Billy, brushing him off and continuing to walk. Billy swiftly caught up to him again.

"Tim, Tim, Tim, that's no way to treat a friend," Billy said loud enough for the other inmates nearby to hear "let's talk, huh?. Man to man,"

Tim said nothing, the flicker of anger in his eyes spoke loudly enough by itself. They got their breakfast and sat down together, with Jaime nearby, having taken up the persona of loyal, if nervous, subordinate to Billy the Insane.

"That looks painful," Jaime observed, nodding towards the healing gash on Tim's forehead.

"Looks worse than it is," Tim replied "hit my head harder than I meant to,"

"I'm sorry," Billy said.

"No, I did it to myself. However, you two do have something else to answer for," Tim told him, sitting on his fury and trying to keep his voice level "what was the idea, framing Roland?,"

"What do you mean?. The guy's a jerk. He got what he deserved," Jaime said.

"No," Tim snarled, his voice low "he may be guilty, but not of that. You sent a debatably innocent kid down there,"

"You went along with it," Jaime retorted.

"I never should have had to decide to," Tim snapped "It was either support you or get you both in trouble, landing us all in solitary. Lotta good that would have done,"

"Well, you were supposed to be team leader, and the first thing you did was bail out on us," Jaime reminded him harshly.

"What did you expect me to do?. Let that jerk, as you put it, have his way with Billy?. And just where do you think that would have got us?,"

"Where are we now?. We haven't learned anything!," Jaime growled.

"As if that's my fault," Tim replied defensively.

"It is your fault. This is all your fault. You and your big ideas. Get over yourself,"

"Stop it," Billy interjected, trying to look forceful rather than pleading "Tim, where did that bruise come from?,"

Tim looked down at his arm and shook his head.

"Blood test,"

"In solitary?. Testing for what?," Jaime asked.

"No telling," Tim shook his head again "they're nuts down there, I'm telling you, absolute psychos,"

"How so?,"

"Hard to say really," Tim said, thinking "more what I heard than what actually happened to me. But there's a lot of screaming and crying down there, and it's not right. Really not right,"

"How not right?,"

"Arkham not right," Tim replied without hesitation "there's crazy down there, and plenty of it. And it's not just the kids. There's something else down there,"

"So we check it out," Jaime said.

"I tried while I was there," Tim told him "the place is like a fortress. There's solitary, but then there's a level below. I couldn't get there by myself,"

"So?. Now you're not by yourself," Jaime pointed out.

"Right. I guess I'm not,"

* * *

_Watchtower_

"Nightwing?. Nightwing," Kaldur's calm voice and hand shaking him woke Nightwing.

He blinked distantly, wondering how it was he'd managed to go to sleep standing up, leaning against a wall. It took him a few moments to unscramble his thoughts.

"Right, right. You were saying...,"

"I was not saying anything," Kaldur replied "you were attempting to tell me why we need to pull the team out,"

"Right," Nightwing shook himself, startled by his own weariness.

He'd pulled a few early mornings sure, but this was ridiculous.

"I can't give you a good reason," he said at last "just that I know we need to get them out. Kaldur, you know me. Surely you, of all people, have not forgotten how I operate,"

"I have not," Kaldur agreed "I also have not forgotten the recent loss of your best friend and the attempt on your life which you did nothing to prevent,"

"That's...," he struggled to maintain his thought train, it seemed harder than usual "that's beside the point. I'm not being paranoid and I have not snapped. I know what I know,"

"Have you stopped to consider that you may not be the best judge of your mental state?,"

"Don't you start," Nightwing warned "don't even go there,"

"Nightwing, listen to me-,"

"No, you listen!. Either you pull them out, or I will,"

"Nightwing,"

"What?," Kaldur gestured to his face.

Reluctantly, with a sick knowing feeling, Nightwing touched his lip, and found blood. He stood for a moment, dazed and faintly worried, staring without comprehension at the dark fluid on his fingertips. Then he looked to Kaldur, who seemed distant and blurry.

"Kaldur...," he never finished the sentence, collapsing to the floor before his friend could catch him.

He lay on his back, gazing unseeing at the ceiling, entranced by the forms of light and dark that flew like shadows of birds across his field of vision. He heard Kaldur's voice, faint like a faraway echo, calling for help, and asking him to speak. It suddenly didn't seem too important.

In fact, nothing seemed terribly important except for the bird-like shadows and lights and whatever harsh message of catastrophe they were carrying on their wings.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Jagged Edge

_Watchtower_

_09:30 AM_

"We're losing him," Black Canary said breathlessly, grabbing for the nearest medical equipment.

For the last hour and a half, she and several other League members had fought to save Nightwing's life. His heart had stopped and restarted so many times she'd lost count.

"We're losing more than we're winning," Atom agreed reluctantly.

As if to counter the discouragement in their voices, Nightwing's body spasmed violently and he took a voluntary breath, which grated harshly against the respirator he'd been put on. His eyelids fluttered, but he showed no other signs of awareness. It was enough for them to redouble their efforts. Even if it was only an illusion that he could hear them, the fact that he was still fighting was clear.

Black Canary pushed several more drugs into the IV, then switched to the defibrillator when his heart stopped yet again. Before she could employ it, the monitor squawked, announcing his heart had started up on its own this time.

"You keep fighting," Black Canary whispered "and we'll get you through,"

Kaldur, standing awkwardly against the wall, trembled with every shuddering breath his friend took and flinched each time the monitor indicated his heart stopped or stuttered. He couldn't help but think _Not you too. Not like this_, but he would never say those words aloud.

The situation hadn't been stable enough for him to even ask what might be wrong, though he suspected that he already knew the answer.

"We've got to try and clear his lungs," Atom said "he's drowning,"

"Agreed," Black Canary replied "he's fighting but he's got no air to do it with, even with the respirator,"

"I can do that," Atom said "I may not be a medical doctor, but I can do precision work,"

"Do it,"

* * *

Miss Martian, just returning from a mission, was surprised by the flurry of activity near what served as the infirmary for the Watchtower. She was even more startled when Kaldur pulled her inside and whispered a hurried update to her.

"You remember when Robin was stricken, not long ago?,"

"Yes, of course," She replied.

"So far, we have not been able to determine a medical reason for this," Kaldur told her "but I fear that Nightwing is dying, despite our efforts,"

"And you want me to try and help him?," she guessed.

Less than a minute later, Miss Martian was positioned near Nightwing, but out of the way in case Atom needed a quick extraction for some reason.

There was less resistance from Nightwing than there had been with Robin. His mind recognized her presence immediately, and did not feel threatened. She found herself on a rooftop of the mind, Nightwing's perception of his mind, like Kaldur's, was that of his home. Walking around, she soon spotted Nightwing standing at the edge, looking down at something. His head turned slightly as she approached, his way of acknowledging her presence.

"M'gann?. What are you doing here?,"

"I thought...," she halted, there would be time to explain later "do you know what's happening to you right now?,"

"Only that I'm hurting... maybe dying, I think," he paused "I can feel myself slipping away. I can't seem to hold on. You can't help me, you know. It's not a mental affliction,"

"Then what is it?," she asked, stepping closer.

"Watch it, the edge is crumbling," Nightwing warned.

She saw now that he was not watching, but that something had tethered him to the edge. And it was, as he said, crumbling away. Though he made no move, she could hear him working over the problem. Escape was his only goal, to break free of the clutches of whatever was killing him. Whether it was poison or disease, in here it had taken the form of some amorphous red tentacled blob.

Nightwing looked over his shoulder at her, dark eyes pained and face lined with exhaustion.

"I'm not strong enough," he said quietly "I've tried everything,"

"Don't give up," Miss Martian said "There are people outside trying to help you. You hold your ground, and let them pull you back,"

* * *

Meanwhile, Atom was working with Bumblebee to make the fine incision needed to clear fluid from the lungs. They were halfway through when Atom noticed something was amiss.

"Look at this," he told Bumblebee "this wasn't visible on the scans, but it's definitely there,"

"What am I looking at?,"

"I don't understand," Atom said "this organ is changing, almost like it's mutating,"

"Like what?," Bumblebee was startled "I never pegged Nightwing for the super powered type,"

"It's not like that," Atom said "more like... his body is attacking itself. I'll bet whatever's going on in here is connected with what's going on out there,"

Taking a closer examination of the lung they were working on, he found what appeared to be a tear in the organ which had resealed itself.

"That explains the fluid," he muttered.

"I don't get it. What's happening to him?," Bumblebee asked.

"I'm not sure," Atom admitted "let's finish up and get out of here,"

* * *

"There's nothing I can do for him," Miss Martian startled everyone, for she had been still and quiet for much longer on the outside than on the inside "But he's not finished. He can't win on his own and right now he's losing ground,"

"You're right about that," Atom replied, having just been extracted "it looks to me like his body is attacking itself, his own immune system is working against him,"

"But why?," Black Canary asked.

"While we were in there, Bumblebee and I saw something which seemed to be coating everything. The fluid in his lungs?. Apparently because whatever it was caused his system to attack them and rip a hole there, which then healed, though I'm not sure how. He's only human, after all,"

"Maybe a kind of poison?," Miss Martian guessed.

"If it is, it's been there for awhile," Atom said "it must have taken at least thirty days for it to settle in as much as it has,"

"Assuming it is, what can we do?," Black Canary wanted to know "we don't know what kind of toxin it is, it hasn't shown up on any of the tests,"

"He's fighting this thing, waging literal war to your figurative one," Miss Martian supplied "so send in reinforcements, and let him do the rest,"

"We don't know what it is, so we can't make an antitoxin," Atom told her.

"So don't. Just give him everything you _do_ have,"

"That could kill him," Atom protested "we don't know what we're dealing with,"

"Have your methods worked!?," she demanded, interrupting sharply, losing suddenly her calm exterior.

"Well, I don't-,"

"Then try mine!," she snapped, then added more calmly "better yet: try his,"

* * *

_ACCF_

_September 19__th__, 12:00 AM_

They waited for several hours to make sure the facility had slipped completely into its night shift. The other boys were asleep, and the guards were likely somewhat less than alert, knowing they were keeping an eye on nothing more than slumbering youths, like they had so many nights before. If they had known that three of their inmates were secretly Robin, Blue Beetle and Captain Marvel, they might have been paying much closer attention.

Jaime and Billy stood watch at the small window in the door while Tim hacked into the mechanism. Electronically operated locks were pretty much standard in places like this. Supposedly more secure than standard locks. But for the team, it made life that much easier.

Silently, they crept down the hall, closing the door behind them. Jaime and Billy hesitated at the first camera, but Tim pointed to his wrist, implying that he'd already hacked into the cameras as well. He might not be the technical genius that Nightwing was, but he was still trained by Batman.

They paused at every corner, listening intently for the sound of footfalls around the bend. They encountered no opposition as they made their way cautiously but quickly to solitary.

At Tim's nod, Jaime and Billy split away from him and went to the cell doors. For some reason, these were old fashioned locks. Quietly, they unlocked them one by one. Tim, meanwhile, released the locks on all the cells above. It was a dangerous distraction, the risk was great. But the reward would be worth it, or so Tim hoped fervently.

They hesitated near the end of the last hall, seeing two offices, one on either side, both in line of sight of the elevator ahead of them. Jaime gestured towards an empty cell, and they melted into it. After that, Tim hit a button which set off a shrieking alarm that echoed throughout the building at a deafening volume. Guards across the facility leaped to their feet, shocked to find the cell doors open and their contents spilling out into the hallways in a flurry of chaos.

The office doors ahead of them burst open and men came out, shouting at one another and the runaway inmates. After they went past, Tim crept out of the hiding place and checked the offices. There was still one guard left. Thinking fast, Tim waved a warning to his comrades before abruptly standing up and moving towards the elevator.

"Hey!. Hey, you!," the guard got to his feet "stop right there,"

Tim ignored him. The guard left the office and clapped one hand on Tim's shoulder, a mistake that would have cost him his life had the team been assassins. As it was, the unfortunate guard was hit in the head and then unceremoniously dragged out of sight and stowed away behind a desk.

Then the team proceeded to the elevator, whose pass code Tim managed to fake to get them in.

"Is it just me, or is this beginning to look at lot like what happened at Cadmus years ago?," Billy asked.

"It's not just you," Tim replied "I've been over that file a hundred times. It looks almost exactly like this. Too close to be mere coincidence,"

"You think we'll find clones down there?," Jaime asked.

"I don't see how clones would fit into all this, but maybe,"

* * *

_Watchtower_

_01:05 AM_

"Looks like the worst might finally be behind us," Atom sighed.

It had been two hours since the last emergency. Nightwing was breathing with minimal assistance and his heartbeat was stronger than it had been all day. The relief of those who'd been involved with trying to save his life was palpable. The fight had been a long and brutal one, almost as punishing as real combat. Perhaps more for Nightwing.

"I just wish I knew how this happened," Black Canary said wearily.

"I think I may have some idea," Miss Martian told her "but I want to be sure,"

Batman, having just heard from another member of the team, entered the room like a black ghost.

"How is he?," he asked nobody in particular.

"Stable, at least for now," Atom volunteered "Thanks to M'gann's suggestion, I think we managed to flush the last of the poison, or whatever it was, from his system,"

"Do we know what happened?,"

"Only that he collapsed this morning," Atom replied cautiously "it was only by chance we hit upon the information that saved his life,"

"Who was with him?,"

"I was," Kaldur said calmly.

"How did he seem to you?," Batman still hadn't turned from the bed, and his voice was cold, hard, interrogative.

To those who were familiar with him, it was clear that he was angry, and looking for something or someone to lash out at. It was easy to forget, so terribly easy, that even Batman and Nightwing were not without feeling. And, because of the professional way they spoke to one another, it was even easier to forget that they were, for all relevant purposes, father and son and, formerly, mentor and apprentice.

"Tired," Kaldur answered "distracted. Almost confused,"

"Confused?," Batman pressed.

"He seemed to have difficulty remembering our topic of conversation from sentence to sentence. I believe he knew he was sick on some level, and perhaps even why,"

"He didn't indicate that to me," Miss Martian protested "When I was in his mind, I got no impression that he had any idea at all what it was that was attacking him,"

Swiftly, Batman asked a number of questions, bringing himself up to date on the situation. Then he left, without another word. It was clear that he had every intention of finding the responsible party and dealing with them accordingly.

* * *

_ACCF_

Test tubes, vats of mysterious ooze, mutated monsters snarling behind iron bars and glass, vast computer banks of calculations and notations on each, none of it meaning anything more than what they'd all seen before.

"Don't tell me this was all just a waste of time," Jaime muttered "I'm tired of these places,"

"No sign of the missing prisoners on our list. Do you think they might be these creatures?," Billy wondered aloud.

"Maybe, but there's more monsters than missing in here. Some of these must be from other places. But why bring them here?. What are they for?," Tim laid a hand on the shatter-proof glass partition of one cage, the other side of which was fogged and slimy from the monster beating itself against it in a crazed attempt to break free.

"Looks like another dead end," Jaime observed "does that mean we can go now?,"

"No," Tim said adamantly "we've got to put a stop to this. We have to catch them in the act. And besides that, there are still scientists here, people who know something,"

Jaime opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He had not forgotten the last time the team had attempted to take a hostage. Neither had Tim. But before he could lay out his plan, a red light flashed on the ceiling and a siren began to shriek.

"I think they know we're here," Billy said.

Tim looked over his shoulder at the elevator, the indicator light put it at one floor above them. His eyes scanned the ceiling and found air vents. Without speaking, he jumped onto a cabinet and climbed up to a grate in the ceiling. Prying it off, he stood aside for the other two to get in first.

Before he could climb up himself, a furry clawed hand shot out from between the bars of a nearby cage and caught him by the ankle, pulling his leg out from under him. Tim crashed to the floor with a startled yelp. Jaime and Billy turned back, but he waved them on.

"Go on!. Get out of here!. Go!," He kicked the paw off and got to his feet, scrambling up onto the cabinet once more.

Satisfied that he was following, Billy and Jaime turned back around and began to crawl through the vents, following the blueprints they'd found. Tim was right behind them. The tunnels twisted and turned, but they made it to ground level. Bursting out of the vents into a sea of chaos, they found themselves in the midst of the still free-rein inmates, many of whom were in the process of trying to escape.

Tim found the door which led to the exercise yard and kicked it in. The tall fence, barbed wired at the top, was a small obstacle for the team.

"Shazam!," Captain Marvel took form in a blaze of lightning, Blue Beetle suited up a moment later.

Both could fly, but they weren't worried about Tim's ability to keep up. Acrobat that he was, a chain link fence with wire around it was hardly a challenge.

A hiss followed by a dull thud signaled doom for the escape. Tim stumbled, one hand to his neck. He pulled a tranquilizer dart and looked at it for a moment.

"I want him alive," a man in a lab coat snarled to the guard who'd shot him "That one is worth more than ten of you,"

Blue Beetle turned and saw that Tim had not followed them. Swooping back, he was brought up short by his leader's final command.

"The scientist. Get him," Tim pointed weakly, very nearly unconscious.

Blue dove in, his suit protecting him from darts, and caught the scientist by the right arm. Sweeping to the left and arcing upwards, he was soon beyond the facility. There was nothing he could do for Tim, not with the number of people who had come flooding out of the building. Inmates and guards and scientists alike swarmed the yard like ants at a picnic.

"Where's Tim?," Captain Marvel asked worriedly when Blue caught up to him.

"He's not coming," Blue shook his head "but I got what we came for,"

"Put me down!. Right this instant," the scientist shouted "I'm afraid of heights you know,"

"Is that so?,"

"You had better not!. Aaahhh!,"


	6. Chapter 5 - It's Not Right

Spinning, spinning, spinning. Endlessly spinning in a whirlpool of darkness. Venturing ever deeper into the inherent chaos of the Unknown. Further and further into the dark. No escape. Here, within the black recesses of his mind, Nightwing found a dusty corner of himself so ill-used he hardly recognized it as a part of him. He regarded it as he might an unholy demon, a ferocious and disgusting, yet utterly fascinating and awe-inspiring beast of unimaginable power.

Sometimes when we look at ourselves, a dark and psychotic part of us looks back with eyes of glittering hate, seething rage, made aged by the torment of insanity. That inner beast was not what Nightwing now looked upon. That was a portion of himself with which he was familiar and well-accustomed to. This was something else, something even darker, which up until now he had kept totally secret, even from himself.

It did not speak to him, did not even look at him. Instead, it held up a mirror of tarnished silver, its glassy surface scarred by ages of misuse and cracked by time itself. It seemed unreal somehow, that something so old, so very ancient could exist within him.

Nightwing was unable to resist the temptation to look into the mirror. What he saw was not his own reflection, but that of a stranger, whose features were clouded by distance and time. He did not speak to the figure, or the one holding the mirror. There was nothing to say.

Here in the darkness of his soul, he felt the pain which accompanies total aloneness, the absence of all other than self. Here he bore witness to his inner demons, ones not dissimilar from those of other heroes. There were those that drove him, those that tempted him into darkness, those who tried to hold him back and those who constantly urged him to betray all he held dear. Yet they were all strangely silent before the one with the mirror.

"I should be dead," Nightwing said at last, to himself because he was the only one there "and yet, here I am with all of you. You're still here. Which means I'm still alive,"

Shadowy shapes moved in the dark, their voices faint and terrible, wordless sounds accompanying frantic movement. Meaningless and afraid of the mirror, they dared not come closer to whisper secrets and desires in his ear.

"It's not over," he observed quietly "this is only the beginning,"

The mirror was again upheld, and once more he looked into it. A scene played out inside the frame and on the glass, but Nightwing could not understand what he saw. If only he could, but the patterns were indistinct and he could not recognize the places or figures.

Suddenly, a blackened hell beast drove forward, leaping from the mirror, its skin soaked in acid and rotting away, its foul mouth opened wide to reveal uneven teeth and thick saliva. Roaring with supernatural rage, it fell upon Nightwing, glowing red eyes veined with pulsing, living fury and agony. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the beast was gone.

With a choked gasp, Nightwing opened his eyes.

* * *

_Watchtower_

_September 20__th__, 04:37 AM_

"Hey, take it easy, you're alright," Batgirl held Nightwing down while his eyes slowly focused and took in his surroundings.

It was perhaps more a gesture of comfort than restraint, as it didn't feel to her like he had the strength to sit up, much less try to actually stand and fight. He looked at her without recognition for a moment, but already whatever panic had brought him to the surface was subsiding as he realized where he was and became aware of his own physical weakness.

Nightwing settled back, and Batgirl resumed her post sitting in the chair beside the bed. Though his condition had improved to the point that close supervision was no longer necessary, the fact was that he, like all others of his kind, always assumed that they were in danger if they didn't immediately recognize their surroundings. A recovering superhero could injure themselves further in an attempt to conceal themselves or escape, before ever realizing they were hurt. It was wiser for a familiar face to be nearby to assure them that no fighting was necessary than to have them discover it on their own.

"You had us pretty worried for awhile," Batgirl said.

Nightwing couldn't seem to find his voice, but decided it probably wasn't very important anyway. He wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed, or even what had been going on when he blacked out. He lay there trying to remember while Batgirl talked about his close brush with death and what she'd been doing at the time and various reactions from team mates. Something important had been going on, he remembered that. There was... a mission. But what it had been about eluded him.

"The poison was similar to whatever has been used to turn people into monsters. Not identical, maybe a new strain, or the prototype. Atom's not sure,"

Ah yes, that was it. Robin, Blue Beetle and Captain Marvel had been undercover. Were they back yet?. Had they found anything out?. Nightwing tried to articulate the question.

"Don't try to talk yet," Batgirl said "Atom says it'll be a few days, maybe a week before you get your voice back. Think you can hold a pen?,"

That seemed an impossible task, but Nightwing nodded. He had to know about the team. He managed to scribble a few letters, enough for Batgirl to guess. Her face grew shadowed.

"Blue Beetle and Captain Marvel returned night before last. They managed to download a number of files, and got some video evidence of what had been going on in the facility. They even brought back a scientist, I haven't heard how the interrogation went," her face fell as she moved on to the bad news "Robin was caught. Blue said he didn't think anyone recognized him as being anything other than an inmate, but the scientist seemed to think he was special for some reason,"

Nightwing's brain was sluggish and slow to understand the words, even slower to decipher their meaning. As understanding finally dawned, he closed his eyes and breathed out as sharply as his protesting body would allow.

"Don't worry, the League is going after him. But they're going to try a legal tactic first. Blue said they seemed anxious to keep Robin alive, they tranquilized him. Maybe he's just been returned to the cell block. If we can get him transferred out, they'll never have to know that he's anything other than what he appeared to be,"

Nightwing set his jaw, and his eyes flashed angrily. He'd warned them!. But did they listen?. No. And now this had happened. It should have been his responsibility, they were his team. But that had been ripped away from him. And now Robin would pay the price for it, whatever price that might be.

"Don't bother trying to write 'I told you so'," Batgirl said "it's all over your face. And besides, everyone already knows. What we don't know is how you knew,"

Nightwing looked at her, but gave no answer, for he had none to give.

* * *

"I am sorry," Martian Manhunter told Batman "I have been able to get very little from our guest. He has confirmed what we already knew, but has revealed nothing of value,"

"What about Tim?. What does he know about him?,"

"Only that a blood test revealed something of interest. I have been unable to discover what,"

Batman glared through the glass at their prisoner. He knew it was the better course to try and get Robin out the same way he'd been put in, but he had the uneasy feeling that there was something far more sinister going on than even he knew about.

"There is one other thing," Martian Manhunter went on "it seems that some of their research had to do with some kind of space slug, he didn't give it a name,"

It clicked together. Tigress remembered very little of her time under the influence of the slug which had driven her mad enough to try and kill Nightwing. It now seemed possible, even likely, that she had been captured by the Light, and infected purposely. Perhaps they knew her only as a random person on the street and were unaware of her secret identity.

Her rage with Nightwing would have soon become apparent. Perhaps thinking Nightwing would retreat, or that she would only be powerful enough to strike a single blow, they hatched a plan to get her into a fight with Nightwing. A closer examination of the blade she used would very likely show that it was coated with the same substance in Nightwing's blood stream. It had also pierced Robin, but by that time it seemed probable that most of the serum was already gone.

But why Nightwing?. What made him so interesting?. Why, out of all the heroes, would they single him out?. Just because Tigress did?. Would any hero have been equally interesting to them?. That seemed somehow doubtful, given the differences between the poison and the mutation serum. It was designed specifically for an ordinary human, which ruled out aliens and any with superpowers as well as Atlanteans, which was most of the League and over half the team.

And now there was interest in Robin. Genetically, there was no relation between the two. But they had the common background of being Batman's proteges. Peak physical conditioning?. Maybe, but then that was true of all who took on the mantel of superhero, with the possible exception of those who used technology extensively such as Blue Beetle. So why Nightwing and Robin instead of Green Arrow, or even Batman himself?. Accessibility?.

Nightwing had been more vulnerable while he was on his own, in more ways than one. And Robin had dropped right into their laps. But what about Tigress, who now appeared to have been captured at one time?. Why not her?. What made her any different from Nightwing?.

* * *

_ACCF_

_September 22__nd__, 07:30 AM_

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?," Tim demanded of the scientist-type who'd just walked in.

Since being recaptured, Tim had been somewhat surprised to find himself locked down in the basement with the ooze and the monsters and the things and the lab-coat wearing nut jobs. He'd already effected one escape attempt, which had gotten him a steady dose of some drug that seemed to not exactly paralyze him, but make any sort of movement very difficult.

"Oh yes," the man replied, pushing a pair of goggle-like glasses up his nose "we're making living weapons. Only so far, we've been something less than successful,"

Red flags went up in Tim's mind. The man was being open, answering questions. That left no doubt in Tim's mind but that he was going to die if he didn't get out of here. Or possibly worse.

"Mutation fries their brains, huh?,"

"Oh no, that's not the issue," the man replied, only too eager to display his genius "that's the only way to get a willing subject. Although there are those who want to find fault with that, yes. Probably because they want the power for themselves. Paranoids, don't even trust vegetables to do what they want. But you see, those with no brain, cannot have free will,"

"Sure," Tim said, thinking that it actually didn't make any kind of sense at all.

"The problem is that they're too far gone," he said "at first, we thought it was their age. We limited our testing to people under twenty and found the results to be... favorable. But not good enough. We needed... something more. Then we hit upon it. It's all in the immune system,"

Tim didn't say anything. Now the guy was on a roll, he probably wouldn't stop for days.

"We had a major breakthrough with a particular subject in Kansas, who'd recently been vaccinated. We realized that a resistant immune system was the answer. All we needed was a blood test. It's surprising, actually, to find a creature of your caliber in our own prison. I didn't expect a result from our latest experiment for... at least another two weeks, maybe longer,"

"What do you mean?,"

"Don't you know?," the man laughed "surely you must!. You have, within your body, a resistance to a veritable plethora of poisons and venoms. Something you could only have managed on purpose. Generally speaking, gang leaders aren't that paranoid and certainly don't give their rivals that much credit. Afraid of finding a poisonous frog in your morning orange juice?,"

"It pays to be prepared," Tim replied coldly.

Now he knew why he was still alive. Under the careful guidance of Batman he, as well as Nightwing and Batgirl, had built up immunities to a variety of toxins. It was the only smart thing to do. They were only human, and entirely too many villains in Gotham had an affinity for poison. Now that preparation, which had saved his life on more than one occasion, might prove to be his downfall.

"Yes, yes, of course," the man agreed "which is why we haven't injected you just yet. Waiting for the results on our other subject,"

"What other subject?,"

"I thought you said you were prepared. Don't you know anything about your true enemy?. You live in Gotham, you surely can't be so dense as to not have figured out that certain superheroes, while not superpowered, have... resistance to chemicals?,"

Batman?. No, he was over twenty. Batgirl or Nightwing, then. It had to be. Unfortunately, this information wouldn't mean a thing if he couldn't get free.

"Now, I would prefer to leave you as you are. Safer that way," the man said "unfortunately, however, the drug we're giving you is quite rough on the immune system, which we would very much like to be intact when the time comes,"

"Don't tell me, you want me to cooperate with you. So you can turn me into something like fangzilla over there?," he nodded towards a cage where a misshapen fanged mongrel of a creature was drooling absently "no thanks,"

"Oh no, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you," the man replied "however, I can move you to solitary, where you'll be the only assignment of one of the officers,"

The elevator opened just then and a very unhappy looking Officer Warden entered.

"I believe you're already familiar with Warden. I'll leave you two gentlemen to your own devices. Good day... Timothy,"

Tim's eyes narrowed as he watched the scientist leave, then he settled his glare on Warden.

"Don't look at me like that, kid. I've got problems of my own," he unlocked the manacles which had held Tim upright and caught him as he fell to the floor.

"Yeah?. Have you looked around lately?. Do you have any idea what these people will do if they succeed here?. Are you willing to be responsible for the destruction of everything you've ever known, and the total world domination by a bunch of wackos like that man who just left?,"

"Hey, it's not that bad,"

"Not... not," Tim choked on bitter laughter "not that bad?. Look around you!. These are children!. Some of them are even innocent. That one over there... he used to be Roland. Miguellio is in the next cage over. Don't you see what they've done?,"

"And you're next. Cut the sob story, I've heard it before," Warden hauled him to his feet and dragged him over to the elevator.

"You think I'm worried about myself!?. I'm not!. I'm worried about what I'll do if their experiment works!. Dammit, they're making killers!. Why can't you understand that?. You're supposed to keep psychos locked up and try to rehabilitate them if you can. Not make monsters and turn them loose!,"

They were silent in the elevator and Tim said nothing more until the door to his cell swung shut.

"It's not right!," he yelled after Warden "You know it's not!. Why won't you do anything about it?. You're the only one who still can!. Why won't you listen to me!?,"


	7. Chapter 6 - Going Back

_ACCF_

_September 25__th__, 08:00 AM_

Tim had not abandoned his training the last few days. Heck, it was the only thing he could do in the cell. But otherwise, he had barely moved, though he slept little and ate less. He wished he was like Nightwing, who seemed able to take everything calmly and in stride. Instead, he turned into a basket case. In all fairness, the drugs took awhile to wear off, and he was pretty sure he was allergic to something in the concoction, assuming it wasn't just poisonous to begin with.

By now, the nervousness had worn itself so thin as to be practically nonexistent. Unfortunately, the lethargy of acceptance was beginning to set in. A more thorough search had been conducted, and all of his tools had been taken away. Even if he'd had something to work with, there was little chance of escape.

It had taken several hours to sink in, but the clawing creature during the initial escape had fractured or perhaps broken his ankle. He'd tied it with what he had available in the cell, but it wouldn't hold under pressure, he knew. It wasn't anything serious, and was already healing. But it would severely impede any attempt at escape, and make certain combat maneuvers especially difficult.

He was startled to hear the clink of the locking mechanism in the door sliding open. Already he had decided not to go down without a fight. But when the door opened, a guard he didn't recognize was standing there, looking uncomfortable.

"Come on, time for you to rejoin the others,"

"Excuse me?," Tim wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"You're out of solitary. Come on, let's go,"

Baffled, Tim did as he was told, and was surprised that it wasn't a trick, that he was indeed going back to the upper level. He was directed to the eating area, where he picked up a tray and was served some food. Sliding into a seat at an unoccupied table, Tim stared around him in utter bewilderment.

He sensed the danger before Roland's cronies sat down on either side of him.

"Where's your buddies?. They get out on good behavior?," they laughed.

"Leave me alone," Tim said flatly, without emotion.

He was in no mood to deal with these clowns. If they pushed him, he was more than ready to snap. Their arms, their backs, their necks, he didn't much care what.

"That's no way to talk to your superiors," one pushed his shoulder, another stole his tray.

Tim looked past them, for he had caught sight of a familiar face. Warden was standing where he usually did, by the door to the kitchen. He nodded at Tim, but made no other acknowledgment. Tim tensed, looking around uneasily.

"No bull, man," one of the thugs was still talking "You three are the only ones that went missing that night. I know you had something to do with it. I also know you had something to do with getting our boy Roland framed for something he didn't do,"

"I was in solitary," Tim replied distractedly.

His mind was working overtime. He'd figured out that Warden must have sent the new guy to let him out, but to what end?. Did Warden hope he could escape on his own from here?. Or perhaps the man was just trying to somehow ease his own conscience. It didn't really matter.

The eruption of the violence was sudden, but not without its warning. Everyone had expected it, had seen it coming, had known that this conclusion was inevitable. What had been brief flashes of subtle fury exploded into a torrential and uncontainable fire storm of flaming rage.

The illusion of control, so carefully maintained for so very long, was torn away by rough hands and shredded by screaming voices, each clamoring for their own kind of attention.

Later, there would be those who said it began with a shout, others claimed it was a whisper, or perhaps a planned rebellion which got out of hand. A silent dissent flowing among the inmates like a telepathic message, turning to blind and mindless vengeance wrought not only upon the guilty, but on the innocent as well, if there was such a thing.

The only thing anyone knew for sure was that, once the violence began, there was only one way for it to play out. Correctional officers who could sought refuge on the other side of the barred doors. But there were others who were not so lucky, they were caught by the surging upheaval of the inmates, dragged into their midst and ripped to pieces by bare hands eager for the kill.

Tim had sensed it coming, and dodged the attack by the thug on his right, aiming a blow of his own at the one on his left. Neatly, he slid under the table and disappeared into the crowd. Tim knew the chaos would be short-lived, and he knew also that this would be his last, and only, chance at escape. After this was over, security would be tighter than it was already, and he would likely be drugged again.

He sought out Warden, who had remained in the room for some unfathomable reason.

"Here, kid," he shoved something into Tim's hand "it's all the film from the last six months. Everything that's gone on here, everything, is on those,"

Tim looked at the black bag, with its collection of chips inside. Was this precious cargo or just another red herring?. He wondered. Either way, Warden had risked his life to pass this on.

"I was gonna get you out, but then this-," he never finished the sentence as a home-made knife plunged through his back and out the front of his chest.

"No!," Tim cried too late.

Warden tumbled forward into Tim, who staggered under the weight. The knife, already pulled out and long gone, its owner bouncing through the crowd and heading for another officer, left a gaping hole which flowed with blood. Tim rolled Warden onto his side and knelt holding his head to ease his breathing.

"I'm sorry, kid," he gasped "I guess... I let the line get blurry. Once you decide one thing isn't so bad... next thing you know... murder doesn't even seem so wrong,"

"Yeah, I know the feeling,"

"I know ya do, kid. But tell me, who are you really?. You're no gang leader,"

Tim hesitated. Batman had taught him to shield his identity at all costs, no matter what the situation. If he revealed himself, he compromised Batman, Batgirl, Nightwing and all who associated with any of them. Basically he could endanger the entire League.

"Who am I gonna tell?," Warden choked on the words "I bet the man upstairs already knows who ya are and downstairs... well, they've got worse guys to worry about,"

"For what it's worth, I don't think you're a bad guy," Tim told him "and you're right, I'm not Tim Dragon. My name is Tim Drake. Better known as Robin,"

"Batman's kid?. Hell, no wonder they wanted ya so bad," and with that, he was gone.

It was only a few moments later that the officers who had escaped returned in full riot gear. Their own anger and frustration in the situation they vented on the bloody heathens before them. It was not in their denial of God, but in their refusal to realize that it was in their best interest to stop going the way they were, and had been since before they ever came here.

Roars of pain and screams of protest began to replace those of unbridled fury and mad triumph. The riot, shattered by smoke and rubber bullets, broke apart almost as quickly as it had built up. As the coughing, crying and spluttering juveniles scattered and fell to harsh blows, they parted to reveal the heart of the blazing fury.

Kneeling beside the fallen body of Max Warden, blood on his hands and shirt, eyes staring widely at the chaos about him, was Tim.

He took one look at the riot gear and lunged backward, melting into the receding crowd. It was almost as easy as disappearing in the dark. A bunch of boys around his age, all wearing the same clothes, all recoiling from the smoke and rubber bullets in the same manner. But Tim knew it wouldn't end with that. They would be searching for him specifically.

He could possibly get out the way he'd gone before, but to what end?. With his bad ankle, climbing would take more time. And where would he go after that?. The facility was miles from anywhere. Still, he thought, it was a better shot than he had if he stayed here. In fact, just about anywhere would be a better place than right here.

* * *

_Watchtower_

Batman stood watching Nightwing, who was sleeping fitfully. His brow was creased and sweat shone on his face, he twisted and turned and grabbed at the sheets of the bed, wrestling with some nightmare or inner demon, oblivious of the world around him.

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, a stifled cry in his throat. Staring ahead at the wall, unaware of his former mentor's presence, he spoke aloud, apparently still half-asleep.

"Robin...," the single word sent a tremor of dread through Batman.

There was an awareness to the word, a reality of it as tangible as if Nightwing could actually see something happening in front of him. Batman had ignored him once before, which was why Tim was in the mess he was in now. He wasn't about to ignore Nightwing a second time.

"I'm going to get him. Get some rest,"

Nightwing, still asleep, closed his eyes and flopped back on the bed with a sigh, the worry leaving his face as if a great weight had been lifted from his mind. Batman nodded to himself as he left. This had gone quite far enough. He'd already lost one Robin, he wasn't about to give the other over to the wolves, Justice League and legalities be damned, the lot of them.

As he approached the boom tube, Batgirl stepped from the shadows, blocking his way.

"If you think you're going without me, you've got another think coming,"

"Us too," her presence didn't surprise him, but the other two who came behind her did.

Blue Beetle and Captain Marvel stood together, fully aware of what they were going to do.

"We let him down," Captain Marvel said.

"And left him behind," Blue Beetle added.

"And we're not going to do it again,"

* * *

**A/N: Due to personal issues, chapter upload times may begin to vary. The author will still be uploading a new chapter every day, but possibly not at the accustomed hours. Apologies for any inconvenience this may cause.**


	8. Chapter 7 - Injection

_ACCF_

_08:45 AM_

Tim hit the ground running, ignoring the pain in his ankle. The nearest cover was over a hundred yards to the South, and Tim knew with a sinking feeling that he'd never make it. Last time, there had been the advantage of surprise, but this time he'd been anticipated. He'd barely gotten past the officers standing outside the door. He'd taken them down, but at a cost of time and energy.

Mere moments after he cleared the fence, an all-terrain vehicle had rocketed out of the building. It now bore down on him. The rough terrain slowed it down some, it was old and ill-cared for. But it was still faster than he was, and there was nowhere for him to hide.

Tim angled away from it, buying himself precious seconds to think. The black bag with the data chips felt heavier than it should have, the confinement of solitary had prohibited the exercise he was used to and the inactivity was already taking its own toll. At this rate, he'd have nothing left to give.

The vehicle had nearly overtaken him when Tim abruptly turned back, making a leap that he felt would have been a lot easier with his staff. He landed on the hood, gripped the windshield with one hand and swung over, his boots connecting solidly with the officer in the passenger seat. In a matter of seconds, he took out the two in the back, then the driver, whom he simply shoved out.

There were two other vehicles, but they were further behind. They might not be able to overtake him, but they certainly wouldn't lose him. However, if he could make it to the cover offered by the thicket, maybe, just maybe, he'd stand a chance. The vehicles couldn't go in there. Once on foot, the guards would be slower, and Tim would possess the advantage of stealth and agility over them.

He could make it. He could-... a shock wave seemed to slam into the back of his vehicle. The vehicle flipped over and he was thrown clear. Looking back, he saw that the second vehicle had a missile launcher.

"Overkill much?," he muttered aloud, scrambling to his feet.

They didn't want him dead. That was the only advantage he had left, and he was going to play it for all it was worth. He pelted into the thicket, narrowly escaping a hail of darts. When he'd been thrown from the vehicle, he'd landed on his left ankle, the one that was injured.

Little stars of pain danced before his eyes, but he didn't let them stop him, knowing that if he did, he would pay a higher price than even his life. They'd turn him into one of their monsters, one they could actually control. Taking orders from the Light was not in his plans for the future. If he absolutely had to choose, he'd rather die. Unfortunately, they weren't about to give him the option.

Reaching the trees was an incredible relief. Even without equipment, it was a small matter to climb one and begin traveling through the branches. The close-packed trees made a highway of high-wires, and Tim was very much at home with that. Besides that, scrambling from tree to tree put a lot of his weight on his hands, and allowed him to favor his injured leg at least a little bit.

He could not travel as stealthily as he was accustomed to. The prison boots, his injury and the frantic nature of his flight made it impossible. He wasn't exactly crashing through the trees, but to him it seemed as though he was making a tremendous racket, rustling around like a deranged imp, just asking to be found.

At last, panting as quietly as he could manage, he pressed himself against a tree trunk several feet up and waited, hoping the search parties might miss him. But that was not the way it was to be.

* * *

"Scanners indicate a riot is taking place inside," Batman said.

"Forget the riot, look over there!," Blue pointed.

Batman looked to the right, and banked the Batplane sharply.

On the ground were a number of people in riot gear and three ground vehicles (one of which was upside down and in flames), all near a thicket. After extensive crashing around, three more people appeared, two dragging the third kicking and twisting into the open.

"That's Tim," Batgirl exclaimed.

The Batplane was camouflaged, not unlike the Bio-Ship, and had so far gone unnoticed.

One of the two men holding Tim tried to push him down to his knees, but was unsuccessful. The other kicked the back of his right knee and Tim fell down, but was brought up sharply by a hand holding tight to the collar of his shirt. Tim gagged visibly, but glared at the men around him. There was a wild, hunted look in his eyes, suggesting that he was just one step away from doing something suicidal.

Batman took the plane lower. It kicked up a fierce wind, strong enough to blow debris through the air, blinding those in its wake. Tim seemed to instantly grasp the situation and got to his feet at once, moving quickly, but awkwardly as if he were in pain.

Blue Beetle flew from the plane and swept down to pick Tim up.

"We need the bag," Tim shouted over the wind, brushing Blue off "it's got film in it, to prove what they've been doing here all along,"

"I'm not leaving you again," Blue retorted "forget the stupid bag!,"

"No!. Warden died for that bag's contents, I will not leave it here!,"

Blue Beetle ground his teeth, but altered course. As he snatched the bag from the hands of a blinded guard, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Coming from the thicket was a scientist. Running up behind Tim, who wasn't able to hear over the roaring wind, he threw one arm around the smaller Tim's neck, and was no doubt surprised to find himself easily flipped over.

But the damage was done. Tim angrily yanked the needle from his arm and flung it to the ground, but there was a new fear and horror in his eyes when they met Blue Beetle's. Blue didn't wait to try and process what had happened. He took Tim by the hand and swept back up to the ship.

Immediately, Batman turned and flew away from the facility, leaving a number of very confused guards and scientists behind, one of whom would wake up later with a terrible headache.

Tim, white-faced, sat down, holding the place on his arm where he'd been shot in an absent sort of way. He was trembling and dazed, breathing heavily and clearly in no condition to manufacture a coherent sentence, much less give a report.

"Are you alright?," Batgirl asked.

She must have been aware of the idiocy inherent in the question, but asked it anyway. Tim slowly shifted his gaze towards her, as a drunk might look up from an empty glass to order another round. He blinked at her vaguely, as if he didn't even understand the question. Like as not, he probably didn't after all he'd been through. However, after some contemplation, he did manage to speak.

"Nightwing?," was all he said, unable to manage more than one word.

"He's fine. Why?," Batgirl exchanged a significant look with Batman, but it was lost on Tim.

"And you?,"

"Never better. Why?," she asked again.

Tim swayed where he sat and didn't answer, instead looking down at the hand covering his arm, a poor attempt to conceal the truth from himself. He already knew what had happened. They couldn't hold on to him, but refused to lose everything. Though he didn't yet feel it, he knew that he was now as diseased as the very monsters he'd been fighting to control.

If there was a trophy for worst team leader, he was sure to get it. Assuming he stayed human long enough. The facility was miles behind them by now, but it had left its mark in the form of a circular bruise just below Tim's left elbow.

"I have to die," he whispered aloud, but either nobody heard, or they were ignoring him.

He didn't care. The reality that was just beginning to sink in was that he was worse than dead. It was only a matter of time before he became a monster, and tried to kill everything in sight at best, did the bidding of the Light at worst. Already he was aware of a distant connection between himself and what was, as yet, unknown. Telepathically controlled monsters. He shuddered.

If only Captain Marvel had been put in charge, maybe none of this would have happened.


	9. Chapter 8 - The Beginning

_Watchtower_

_10:30 AM_

"Unfortunately, the injection Robin received is different in nature from Nightwing's," Atom said quietly to Batman "like the people we have in the lab, I see no cure,"

"How long does he have?," Batman asked, straight to the point.

"Days. Maybe weeks. It's hard to say, since I don't fully understand what I'm dealing with," Atom sighed "actually, I have almost no idea. Nightwing was a shot in the dark, this is worse, like shooting a moving target in the dark,"

"Does he know?," Batman asked.

"I'm sure he does," Atom replied, gesturing towards Tim, who was sitting on the edge of a bed across the room "he didn't say a word the whole time, barely even looked at me. It's like he's just... shut down,"

"And all for what?," Batman slammed his hand against the table he'd been leaning on "a few hours of security footage and a crackpot scientist who who's more insane than genius,"

"You couldn't have known-," Atom began, but Batman interrupted.

"The price was too high," he stormed "the risk too great for nothing more than a potential lead. So they're making monsters. We knew that already!,"

"Living weapons," the soft voice behind them startled both men.

They swung around to look at Tim, who hadn't looked up from the floor. He went on in the same dead tone, slowly and precisely reciting the details of everything he had learned. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. In his report, he revealed that he did, indeed, know what had happened to him. He knew too, in part, what had happened to Nightwing. When he finished, he asked but one question.

"Tell me, was there enough footage on those chips to close that place down for good?," he had already told them of Max Warden's death, and it was only with reluctance that Batman answered him.

"Yes," he said "but you know they've probably already packed up and left. A few members of the League are going out there to do what they can,"

"Then it's over, just like Archfield. I screwed that up too," Tim's voice cracked as he went on, obviously more to himself than anyone who might be listening "It's my fault, all of it. Nobody had to die, nobody. Not if I'd done the smart thing. I let my emotions get in the way. Let fear cloud my judgment. I should never have been put in charge,"

"You did what you could," Batman said gently, but Tim seemed not to hear him.

"And all of it was for what?. A damn video tape of something we already knew was happening,"

Tim's words were so close to what Batman had said mere moments before that, for a moment, both men were struck speechless. It shouldn't have been so surprising. Tim might be young, he might be inexperienced, he might be a completely different personality type. But he had been trained by Batman. Inevitably, he thought very much like the Dark Knight. It would be strange if it were not so.

"I won't be the same as the others," Tim went on, as if oblivious to the looks he was getting "Nothing so random and harmless. They'll make a killer of me, plain and simple. With all the skills and knowledge I have now, and power which rivals Superman himself. All under control. Completely, mindlessly, under control,"

"Whose control?," Batman asked.

Instead of answering, Tim's vacant eyes roamed the walls, as if he expected to find some escape or answer there, but none was forthcoming.

"I have to die," he said, repeating what he'd said on the plane.

"No, there's another way, and we'll find it," Batman told him firmly "giving up isn't in your nature, Tim. Nor is it in mine,"

"It's the only way," Tim insisted, sounding almost indifferent.

"No," Batman repeated, more firmly this time.

"You don't know," Tim's voice was almost a whisper, humble and faraway, as if he were speaking across a vast distance though he was physically right beside them "you don't know. I can feel it, even now. I know I'm changing, it won't be long now," his tone grew weary as he went on "there's no escaping from it. There never was,"

"It isn't over," the new voice startled Batman and Atom, but Tim gave no sign of hearing.

Nightwing, who had lain quietly, and hadn't spoken since before his ordeal, now spoke. His voice was low and speaking was clearly difficult and perhaps even painful, yet there was an intensity to his words which could not be ignored, even by Tim.

"It's just beginning," he went on slowly "we both know that. Don't pretend you can't feel it, I know you can. We both do,"

Tim raised his head and looked over at where Nightwing lay. Something seemed to pass between them like an electric current, a shared knowledge they possessed that none of the others could touch. Batman wondered if it was their shared experience, or their shared identity. Both knew what it was to be Robin, and to be a member of the team. They knew what it meant to lead, and to fight alongside the same people, fighting the same battles.

"Yes," Tim said, his dropping his gaze to the floor "I can,"

"Then you know that you will live. As I will,"

"Yes,"

Satisfied, Nightwing closed his eyes, exhausted even from a conversation so brief as this one had been. Tim too looked drained, but he had from the moment they'd found him. Like he was already more than half dead.

"Now for the other injury," Atom said with forced cheerfulness.

* * *

_11:00 PM_

The monster was back. Or maybe it had never left. Half-forgotten or nearly remembered, it slunk its way through the darkness, fetid breath steaming the air around it and glittering red eyes alive with the hate of one who is neither alive nor dead, but something apart... something different from all else. Lurking there in the stillness, present like a specter in a graveyard.

Watching, waiting, becoming more deadly with every step, more dangerous with every breath. Alive with a fury which could not be quelled, a savagery which could never be tamed. A killer rivaled by few, and matched by none. A primordial beast, brought to the present by crude means, a savage fury the world should never have seen, and which should never have been reborn.

Alive. Alive. Stalking the world, seeking, ever seeking. A hellish beast born of fire and brimstone like the Devil himself, cunning and lethal, inescapable, undeniable, inexorable. Its presence was an offense against nature and humanity itself, the very fabric of the universe torn before its evil eyes.

Nightwing and Robin bolted upright in the same instant, eyes flashing open as they escaped the nightmare landscape, gasping for air and looking about wildly in the darkness. Their eyes met, and a knowing look passed between them.

Oh yes, this was just the beginning. The worst was yet to come...

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**A/N: The next chapter will be the epilogue and should be uploaded tomorrow. The prologue for part 3 will hopefully be uploaded without delay.**


	10. Epilogue

_LuthorCorp HQ, Metropolis_

_September 26__th__, 12:21 AM_

The distant sound of sirens was the theme of Metropolis, the constant melody that was the very essence of the city, like the rhythm of a heartbeat, the pulse of the body that never slept. A waking behemoth of superstructures built around a central point. And that point was LuthorCorp HQ.

Or at least, that's how Lex Luthor thought of it. In reality, he had simply bought up the property in the middle of the city, and built a skyscraper in his own name. Ego-centric, perhaps. But also a grand business move, making it impossible for anyone to cross through Metropolis without being reminded of the man who owned over half the city, and probably at least one small country. One of the richest men in the world, and as close to the top as the current governments would allow.

Money was just a means to an end. Every project Luthor funded was part of the means, heading toward the eventual end of ultimate power. He knew it would not stop with planetary domination. He would move on to other worlds. Immortality was a private craving, for he knew he could not possibly live long enough to see his dreams fulfilled. The idea that he, Lex Luthor should eventually be forgotten, was one he abhorred.

Even to go down in history as a conqueror was somewhat less than his great desire. This was one of the many reasons he so thoroughly loathed Superman. For no being in the universe was possessed of such power, yet such indefinable humanity. A virtual immortal, to be remembered forever because he was truly 'super'. The superior man, whose very existence was a constant irritation to Luthor.

He was disappointed, even disgusted, that his offspring had chosen to fight for the same side as his arch-nemesis. It seemed that even the small pleasure of owning a Kryptonian-halfbreed was to be denied him. And Luthor hated being denied. A man of his power and genius should be able to have whatever he wished, no matter how big or how trivial.

So often he stayed late at night, listening to the sounds of the city that should be his- would be his, except for one small annoyance. Superman, who also had laid claim to the city, and still found time to defend it in spite of his membership with the Justice League, who surely had bigger things to worry about than who owned what in Metropolis.

And yet, of late, it had been an entirely different hero who captured his interest. Nightwing, whose very name was a reminder of what he had once been, and what he had yet to become. A mere mortal who could be a king among his peers, as Superman could be a God, yet neither of them chose that. However, it was there that their similarities ended.

Superman was unfailingly good, composed of the sickening morality that most people merely attempted to cloak themselves in, in order to conceal their true natures as deviants and megalomaniacs whose own greed and lust were not at all dissimilar to those of Luthor's.

Nightwing was a creature Luthor found himself able to respect. Himself a man who lived on deception, Luthor could recognize it and be impressed by it in others, even if they were on a different side from his own. In his short career, Nightwing had proven able to grasp the big picture and been willing to make sacrifices to reach his goals. He was not afraid to lose a few pawns to win the game.

But, more relevant were Luthor's plans for the young hero. The powers of a Kryptonian might be beyond his reach, but those of Nightwing, a mere human, were within his grasp. If the research he was funding proved successful, as it surely would, then he could himself become immortal, a virtual God on Earth, able to bend all of humanity to his whims. And Nightwing was the key to that.

Actually, anyone would have done, it just so happened that Nightwing was the easiest to obtain. Luthor had received reports from the Arrow County Correctional Facility that they had a boy of note there, but it seemed that they had recently suffered a breakout, and that boy was now gone to parts unknown. Well, no matter. Nightwing would come in soon enough.

And then the real work could begin.

There was a rustling at the open window, as of leathery wings beating the air. Luthor looked up from his musing, but saw nothing except a curtain fluttering in the cool night breeze.

But Luthor was not satisfied. He knew there was someone in the darkened office with him, even without turning on a light other than the lamp which was already lit on his desk.

"The Dark Knight himself comes to call," Luthor said, a subtle smile gracing his lips "not the animal I expected to cross my window sill tonight. To what do I owe this pleasure?,"

There came no answer, nor did Batman reveal himself. He remained in the shadows, watching and waiting to see what Luthor would do next. Very well. Luthor was a patient man, and he too was watching to see what his 'guest' would do next. He got his answer in a flash of black cape.

He was yanked from his chair and slammed against the wall, a hand holding his throat, choking him until he was forced to gasp. He hung there, unable to move or speak, looking down into the eyes of blazing fury which could belong to no other than the Dark Knight himself.

"So who are you avenging?," Luthor asked when he could finally breathe a little.

"You crossed the line, Luthor," Batman growled, his voice almost inhuman as it shook with barely contained rage "you made this personal,"

"I have no idea what you're talking-," he was cut off as the hand tightened around his throat.

"You can run your businesses, pick fights with Superman, try to take over the world as you see fit. And the Justice League will always stop you. But if you _ever_, single out one of my kids again for your twisted schemes, I will kill you,"

He dropped Luthor and turned away, vanishing into the night.

"Oh yes?," Luthor asked the darkness "You forget, I know how you operate. The Justice League does not kill, and neither do you. I'm not afraid of your cowl, Batman!,"

Like a flash of lightning, Batman was back. He threw Luthor across the room, then dragged him to the window, tossing him out and holding him head down by one ankle.

"I hope you're listening, Luthor," he snarled "because I will only say this one more time: touch my kids again, and the rules go out the window. You make this personal, and I will personally kill you,"

Luthor felt himself being swung upwards. He hit the floor on his back, the breath knocked from his body. As he lay gasping, Batman leaped from the window, spreading his cape like a pair of wings and disappearing away into the night.

Luthor, for all his display of bravado, had heard the truth in Batman's voice. And, in spite of himself, he was afraid. For the Batman was not like Superman. Batman was a creature of darkness. He was Vengeance, he was the Night. The Dark Knight.

And woe be to any who dared forget that for a moment.

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**A/N: The author would like to thank the readers for reading, hopes you enjoyed this installment of Re and will join them for part 3.**


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